THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


And  there  she  was,  instead  of  in  Munich. 


THE  WORKS  OF 

F.  MARION 
CRAWFORD 

LITTLE  CITY 
OF  HOPE 


McKiNLAY,  STONE  &  MACKENZIE 

NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1907, 
BY  F.  MARION  CRAWFORD. 


Set  up  and  dec troty ped.    Published  November,  1907. 


Jfrtttf 

J.  8.  Cashing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


-PS- 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.     How  John  Henry  Ovcrholt  sat  down  on  Pam- 

dora's  Box  .          .          .         .          .          .II 

II.     How  a  Man  and  a  Boy  founded  the  Little 

City  of  Hope 37 

III.  How  they  made  Bricks  without  Straw  .         .       6$ 

IV.  How  there  was  a  Famine  in  the  City  .          .       87 

V.     How  the  City  was  besieged  and  the  Lid  of 

Pandora's  Box  came  Off          .          .          .107 

VI.     How  a  Small   Boy   did   a   Big  Thing   and 

nailed  down  the  Lid  of  the  Box    .          .      12  j 

VII.     How  a  Little  Woman  did  a  Great  Thing  to 

save  the  City 145 

VIII.     How  the  Wheels  went  round  at  Last   .         .175 

IX.     How  the  King  of  Hearts  made  a  Feast  in  the 

City  of  Hope 191 


L  Ham)  John  Henry 
Overtoil  sat  down  on  'Pandora's 


/.  How  John  Henry  0<verholt  sat  down  on 
's  SBor 


"  HOPE  is  very  cheap.    There's  always  plenty 
of  it  about." 

"  Fortunately  for  poor  men.    Good  morning." 

With   this    mild   retort   and   civil   salutation 

John  Henry  Overholt  rose  and  went  towards  the 

door,    quite    forgetting    to    shake    hands    with 

Mr.  Burnside,  though  the  latter  made  a  motion 

to  do  so.     Mr.  Burnside  always  gave  his  hand  in 

a  friendly  way,  even  when  he  had  flatly  refused 

to  do  what  people  had  asked  of  him.     It  was 

cheap;    so  he  gave  it. 

13 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

But  he  was  not  pleased  when  they  did  not 
take  it;  for  whatever  he  chose  to  give  seemed  of 
some  value  to  him  as  soon  as  it  was  offered,  even 
his  hand.  Therefore,  when  his  visitor  forgot  to 
take  it  out  of  pure  absence  of  mind,  he  was 
offended  and  spoke  to  him  sharply  before  he 
had  time  to  leave  the  private  office. 

"You  need  not  go  away  like  that,  Mr.  Over- 
holt,  without  shaking  hands ! " 

The  visitor  stopped  and  turned  back  at  once. 
He  was  thin,  and  rather  shabbily  dressed.  I 
know  many  poor  men  who  are  fat  and  some  who 
dress  very  well;  but  this  was  not  that  kind  of 
poor  man. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said  mildly,  "  I  didn't  mean 
to  be  rude.  I  quite  forgot." 

He  came  back,  and  Mr.  Burnside  shook  hands 
with  becoming  coldness,  as  having  just  given  a 
lesson  in  manners.  He  was  not  a  bad  man,  nor 
a  miser,  nor  a  Scrooge,  but  he  was  a  great 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

stickler  for  manners,  especially  with  people 
who  had  nothing  to  give  him.  Besides,  he 
had  already  lent  Overholt  money ;  or,  to 
put  it  nicely,  he  had  invested  a  little  in  his 
invention,  and  he  did  not  see  any  reason 
why  he  should  invest  any  more,  until  it  suc- 
ceeded. Overholt  called  it  selling  shares,  but 
Mr.  Burnside  called  it  borrowing  money. 
Overholt  was  sure  that  if  he  could  raise  more 
funds,  not  much  more,  he  could  make  a  success 
of  the  *  Air-Motor*;  Mr.  Burnside  was  equally 
sure  that  nothing  would  ever  come  of  it. 
They  had  been  explaining  their  respective 
points  of  view  to  each  other,  and  in  sheer 
absence  of  mind  Overholt  had  forgotten  to 
shake  hands. 

Mr.  Burnside  had  no  head  for  mechanics, 
but  Overholt  had  already  made  an  invention 
which  was  considered  very  successful,  though 
he  had  got  little  or  nothing  for  it.  The  me- 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

chanic  who  had  helped  him  in  its  construction 
had  stolen  his  principal  idea  before  the  device 
was  patented  and  had  taken  out  a  patent  for  a 
cheap  little  article  which  every  one  at  once  used 
and  which  made  a  fortune  for  him.  Overholt's 
instrument  took  its  place  in  every  laboratory  in 
the  world ;  but  the  mechanic's  labor-saving 
utensil  took  its  place  in  every  house.  It  was  on 
the  strength  of  its  being  a  valuable  tool  of 
science  that  Mr.  Burnside  had  invested  two 
thousand  dollars  in  the  Air-Motor  without 
really  having  the  smallest  idea  whether  it  was  to 
be  a  machine  that  would  move  the  air,  or  was  to 
be  moved  by  it.  A  number  of  business  men 
had  done  the  same  thing. 

Now,  at  a  political  dinner  in  a  club,  three  of 
the  investors  had  dined  at  the  same  small  table, 
and  in  an  interval  between  two  dull  speeches, 
one  of  the  three  told  the  others  that  he  had 

looked  into  the  invention,  and  that  there  was 

16 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

nothing  in  Overholt's  motor  after  all.  Over- 
holt  was  crazy. 

"It's  like  this,"  he  had  said.  "You  know 
how  a  low-pressure  engine  acts;  the  steam  does 
a  part  of  the  work  and  the  weight  of  the  atmos- 
phere does  the  rest.  Now  this  man  Overholt 
thinks  he  can  make  the  atmosphere  do  both 
parts  of  the  work  with  no  steam  at  all,  and  as 
that's  absurd,  of  course,  he  won't  get  any  more 
of  my  money.  It's  like  getting  into  a  basket  and 
trying  to  lift  yourself  by  the  handles." 

Each  of  the  two  hearers  repeated  this  simple 
demonstration  to  at  least  a  dozen  acquaintances, 
^ho  repeated  it  to  dozens  of  others ;  and  after 
that  John  Henry  Overholt  could  not  raise 
another  dollar  to  complete  the  Air-Motor. 

Mr.  Burnside's  refusal  had  been  definite  and 
final,  and  he  had  been  the  last  to  whom  the 
inventor  had  applied,  merely  because  he 
was  undoubtedly  the  most  close-fisted  man 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

of  business  of  all  who  had  invested  in  the 
invention. 

Overholt  saw  failure  before  him,  at  the  very 
moment  of  success,  with  the  not  quite  indifferent 
accompaniment  of  starvation.  Many  a  man 
as  good  as  he  has  been  in  the  same  straits, 
even  more  than  once  in  life,  and  has  succeeded 
after  all,  and  Overholt  knew  this  quite  well 
and  therefore  did  not  break  down,  nor  despair, 
nor  even  show  distinct  outward  signs  of  mental 
distress. 

Metaphorically,  he  took  Pandora's  box  to  the 
Park,  put  it  in  a  sunny  corner,  and  sat  upon  it, 
to  keep  the  lid  down  with  Hope  inside,  while  he 
thought  over  the  situation. 

It  was  not  at  all  a  pleasant  one.  It  is  one 
thing  to  have  no  money  to  spare,  but  it  is  quite 
another  to  have  none  at  all,  and  he  was  not  far 
from  that.  He  had  some  small  possessions, 

but  those  with  which  he  was  willing  to  part  were 

18 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

worth  nothing,  and  those  which  would  bring 
a  little  money  were  the  expensive  tools  and 
valuable  materials  with  which  he  was  working. 
For  he  worked  alone,  made  cautious  by  his  expe- 
rience with  the  mechanic  who  had  robbed  him  of 
one  of  his  most  profitable  patents.  When  the  idea 
of  the  Air-Motor  had  occurred  to  him,  he  had 
gone  into  a  machine-shop  and  had  spent  nearly 
two  years  in  learning  the  use  of  fine  tools. 
Then  he  had  bought  what  he  needed  out  of  the 
money  invested  in  his  idea,  and  had  gone  to 
work  himself,  sending  models  of  such  castings 
as  jhe  required  to  different  parts  of  the  United 
States,  that  the  pieces  might  be  made  indepen- 
dently. 

He  was  not  an  accomplished  workman,  and 
he  made  slow  progress,  with  only  his  little  son 
to  help  him  when  the  boy  was  not  at  school. 
Often,  through  lack  of  skill,  he  wasted  good 
material,  and  more  than  once  he  spoiled  an 
'9 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

expensive  casting,  and  was  obliged  to  wait 
till  it  could  be  made  again  and  sent  to  him. 
Besides,  he  and  the  boy  had  to  live,  and  living 
is  dear  nowadays,  even  in  a  cottage  in  an  out- 
of-the-way  corner  of  Connecticut;  and  he 
needed  fire  and  light  in  abundance  for  his 
work,  besides  something  to  eat  and  decent 
clothes  to  wear  and  somebody  to  cook  the 
dinner;  and  when  he  took  out  his  diary  note- 
book and  examined  the  figures  on  the  page  near 
the  end  headed  *  Cash  Account  —  November/ 
he  made  out  that  he  had  three  hundred  and 
eighteen  dollars  and  twelve  cents  to  his  credit 
and  nothing  to  come  after  that,  and  he  knew  that 
the  men  who  had  believed  in  him  had  invested, 
amongst  them,  ten  thousand  dollars  in  shares 
and  had  paid  him  the  money  in  cash,  in  the 
course  of  the  past  three  years,  but  would  invest 
no  more;  and  it  was  all  gone. 
One  thousand  more,  clear  of  living  expenses, 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

would  do  it.  He  was  positively  sure  that  it 
would  be  enough,  and  he  and  the  boy  could  live 
on  his  little  cash  balance,  by  great  economy, 
for  four  months,  at  the  end  of  which  time  the 
Air-Motor  would  be  perfected.  But  without 
the  thousand,  the  end  of  the  four  months  would 
be  the  end  of  everything  that  was  worth  while 
in  life.  After  that,  he  would  have  to  go  back 
to  teaching,  in  order  to  live,  and  the  invention 
would  be  lost;  for  the  work  needed  all  his 
time  and  thought. 

He  was  a  mathematician  and  a  very  good 
one,  besides  being  otherwise  a  man  of  culti- 
vated mind  and  wide  reading.  Unfortunately 
for  himself,  or  the  contrary,  if  the  invention  ever 
succeeded,  he  had  given  himself  up  to  higher 
mathematics  when  a  young  man,  instead  of 
turning  his  talent  to  account  in  an  architect's 
office,  a  ship-building  yard  or  a  locomotive 
shop.  He  could  find  the  strain  on  any  part 


21 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

of  an  iron  frame  building  by  the  differential  and 
integral  calculus  to  the  millionth  of  an  ounce, 
but  the  everyday  technical  routine  work  with 
volumes  of  ready-made  tables  was  unfamiliar 
and  uncongenial  to  him;  he  would  rather  have 
calculated  the  tables  themselves.  The  true 
science  of  mathematics  is  the  most  imaginative 
and  creative  of  all  sciences ;  but  the  mere  appli- 
cation of  mathematics  to  figures,  for  the  con- 
struction of  engines,  ships  or  buildings,  is  the 
dullest  sort  of  drudgery. 

Rather  than  that,  he  had  chosen  to  teach 
what  he  knew  and  to  dream  of  great  problems 
at  his  leisure  when  teaching  was  over  for  the  day, 
or  for  the  term.  He  had  taught  in  a  small 
college,  and  had  known  the  rare  delight  of 
having  one  or  two  pupils  who  were  really  in- 
terested. It  had  been  a  good  position,  and  he 
had  married  a  clever  New  England  girl,  the 
daughter  of  his  predecessor,  who  had  died 


22 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

suddenly.  They  had  been  very  happy  together 
for  years  and  one  boy  had  been  born  to  them 
whom  his  father  insisted  on  christening  Newton. 
Then  Overholt  had  thrown  up  his  employment 
for  the  sake  of  getting  freedom  to  perfect 
his  invention,  though  much  against  his  wife's 
advice,  for  she  was  a  prudent  little  woman, 
besides  being  clever,  and  she  thought  of  the 
future  of  the  two  beings  she  loved,  and  of  her 
own,  while  her  husband  dreamed  of  hastening 
the  progress  of  science. 

Overholt  came  to  New  York,  because  he  could 

work  better  there  than  elsewhere,  and  could  get 

* 
better  tools  made,  and  could  obtain  more  easily 

the  materials  he  wanted.  For  a  time  every- 
thing went  well  enough,  but  when  the  investors 
began  to  lose  faith  in  him,  things  went  very 
badly. 

Then  Mrs.  Overholt  told  her  husband  that 
two  could  live  where  three  could  not,  especially 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

if  one  was  a  boy  of  twelve ;  and  as  she  would  not 
break  his  heart  by  teazing  him  into  giving  up 
the  invention  as  a  matter  of  duty,  she  told  him 
that  she  would  support  herself  until  it  was  per- 
fected or  until  he  abandoned  it  of  his  own  accord. 
She  was  very  well  fitted  to  be  a  governess,  she 
said,  and  she  had  friends  in  New  England  who 
could  find  her  a  situation.  He  should  see  her 
whenever  it  was  possible,  she  added,  but  there 
was  no  other  way. 

Now  it  is  not  easy  to  find  a  thoroughly  re- 
spectable young  married  governess  of  unex- 
ceptionable manners,  who  comes  of  a  good 
stock  and  is  able  to  teach  young  ladies. 
Such  a  person  is  a  treasure  to  rich  people  who 
need  somebody  to  take  charge  of  their  girls 
while  they  fly  round  and  round  the  world  in 
automobiles,  seeking  whom  they  may  destroy. 
Therefore  Mrs.  Overholt  obtained  a  very  good 
place  before  long,  and  when  the  family  in  which 

24 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

she  taught  had  its  next  attack  of  European  fever 
and  it  was  decided  that  the  girls  must  stay  in 
Munich  to  improve  their  German  and  their 
music,  Mrs.  Overholt  was  offered  an  increase 
of  salary  if  she  would  take  them  there  and  see 
to  it,  while  their  parents  quartered  Germany, 
France,  Spain,  Italy  and  Austria  at  the  rate  of 
forty  miles  an  hour,  or  even  fifty  and  sixty  where 
the  roads  were  good.  If  the  parents  broke  their 
necks,  Mrs.  Overholt  would  take  the  children 
home;  but  this  was  rather  in  the  understanding 
than  in  the  agreement. 

Tftat  was  the  position  when  John  Henry  sat 
down  upon  the  lid  of  Pandora's  box  in  a  sunny 
corner  of  the  Central  Park  and  reflected  on  Mr. 
Burnside's  remark  that  'there  was  plenty  of 
hope  about/  The  inventor  thought  that  there 
was  not  much;  but  such  as  it  was,  he  did 
not  mean  to  part  with  it  on  the  ground 
that  the  man  of  business  had  called  it 'cheap.' 
25 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

He  resolved  his  feelings  into  factors  and  sim- 
plified the  forms  of  each ;  and  this  little  mathe- 
matical operation  showed  him  that  he  was 
miserable  for  three  reasons. 

The  first  was  that  there  was  no  money  for  the 
tangent-balance  of  the  Air-Motor,  which  was 
the  final  part,  on  which  he  had  spent  months  of 
hard  work  and  a  hundred  more  than  half- 
sleepless  nights. 

The  second  reason  was  that  he  had  not  seen 
his  wife  for  nearly  a  year  and  had  no  idea  how 
long  it  would  be  before  he  saw  her  again,  and 
he  was  just  as  much  in  love  with  her  as  he  had 
been  fourteen  years  ago,  when  he  married  her. 

The  third,  and  not  the  least,  was  that  Christ- 
mas was  coming,  and  he  did  not  see  how  in  the 
world  he  was  to  make  a  Christmas  out  of  noth- 
ing for  Newton,  seeing  that  a  thirteen-year-old 
boy  wants  everything  under  the  sun  to  cheer 
him  up,  when  he  has  no  brothers  and  sisters, 

26 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

and  school  is  closed  for  the  holidays,  and  his 
mother  is  away  from  home,  and  there  is  nobody 
but  a  dear  old  tiresome  father  who  has  his  nose 
over  a  lathe  all  day  long  unless  he  is  blinding 
himself  with  calculating  quaternions  for  some 

reason   that  no  lad,   and  very  few  men,   can 

v 

possibly  understand.  John  Henry  was  obliged 
to  confess  that  Hope  was  not  much  of  a  Christ- 
mas present  for  a  boy  in  Newton's  surround- 
ings. 

For  the  surroundings  would  be  dismal  in  the 
extreme.  A  rickety  cottage,  on  an  abandoned 
Connecticut  farm  that  is  waiting  for  a  Bohemian 
emigrant  to  make  it  pay,  is  not  a  gay  place, 
especially  when  two-thirds  of  the  house  has 
been  turned  into  a  workshop  that  smells  ever- 
lastingly of  smith's  coal,  brass  filings  and  a 
nauseous  chemical  which  seemed  to  be  necessary 
to  the  life  of  the  Air- Motor;  and  when  the  rest 

of  the  home  is  furnished  in  a  style  that  would 
27 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

make  a  condemned  cell  look  attractive  by  con- 
trast. 

Besides,  it  would  rain,  or  snow,  and  it  rarely 
snowed  in  a  decent,  Christian  manner  by  Christ- 
mas. It  snowed  slush,  as  Newton  expressed 
it.  A  certain  kind  of  snow-slush  makes  nice 
hard  snowballs,  it  is  true,  just  like  stones; 
but  when  there  is  no  other  boy  to  fight,  it  is  no 
good.  Overholt  had  once  offered  to  have  a 
game  of  snowballing  with  his  son  on  a  Satur- 
day afternoon  in  winter;  and  the  invitation 
was  accepted  with  alacrity.  But  it  was  never 
extended  again.  The  boy  was  a  perfect  terror 
at  that  form  of  diversion.  Yet  so  distressed 
was  Overholt  at  the  prospect  of  a  sad  Christ- 
mas for  his  son  that  he  even  thought  of  volun- 
tarily giving  up  his  thin  body  to  the  torment 
again  on  the  twenty-fifth  of  December,  if  that 
would  amuse  Newton  and  make  it  seem  less 

dull    for   him.     Good-will   towards   men,  and 

28 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

even  towards  children,  could  go  no  further 
than  that,  even  at  Christmas  time.  At  least, 
Overholt  could  think  of  no  greater  sacrifice 
that  might  serve. 

For  what  are  toys  to  a  boy  of  thirteen  ? 
He  wants  a  gun  and  something  to  kill,  or  he 
wants  a  boat  in  which  he  can  really  sail,  or 
a  live  pony  with  a  real  head,  a  real  tail  and 
four  real  legs,  one  at  each  corner.  That  had 
been  Newton's  definition  of  the  desired  ani- 
mal when  he  was  six  years  old,  and  some  one 
had  given  him  a  wooden  one  on  rockers  with 
the  legs  painted  on  each  side.  Girls  of  thirteen 
can  still  play  with  dolls,  and  John  Henry  had 
read  that  far  away  in  ancient  times,  girls 
dedicated  their  dolls,  with  all  the  dolls'  clothes, 
to  Artemis  on  the  eve  of  their  wedding  day. 
But  no  self-respecting  boy  of  thirteen  cares 
a  straw  for  anything  that  is  not  real  except 

an  imaginary  pain  that  will  keep  him   away 
29 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

from  school  without  cutting  down  his  rations; 
and  in  the  invention  and  presentation  of  such 
fictitious  suffering  he  beats  all  the  doll-makers 
in  Germany  and  all  the  playwrights  and  actors 
in  the  world.  You  must  have  noticed  that 
the  pain  is  always  as  far  from  the  stomach  as 
is  compatible  with  probability.  Toothache  is  a 
grand  thing,  for  nobody  can  blame  a  healthy 
boy  for  eating  then,  if  he  can  only  bear  the  pain. 
And  he  can,  and  does,  bear  it  nobly,  though 
with  awful  faces.  The  little  beast  knows 
that  all  toothaches  do  not  make  your  cheek 
swell.  Then  there  is  earache;  that  is  a  splen- 
did invention;  it  goes  through  your  head  like 
a  red-hot  corkscrew  with  a  powerful  brakeman 
at  the  other  end,  turning  it  steadily  —  be- 
tween meals.  Only  certain  kinds  of  things 
really  seem  to  make  him  stop.  Ice-cream  is 
one,  and  it  takes  a  great  deal  of  it.  It  is  well 

known  that  ice  will  cool  a  red-hot  corkscrew. 

30 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

But  this  is  a  digression,  for  no  boy  ever  has 
any  pain  at  Christmas;  it  is  only  afterward 
that  it  comes  on;  usually  about  ten  days. 

After  an  hour  Overholt  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  he  had  better  take  Pandora's  box 
out  to  the  cottage  and  sit  on  it  there,  since 
nothing  suggested  itself  to  him,  in  spite  of  his 
immense  good-will  to  accept  any  suggestion 
which  the  spirit  of  coming  Christmas  might 
be  kind  enough  to  offer;  and  if  he  could  do 
nothing  else,  he  could  at  least  work  at  his 
machine,  and  try  to  devise  some  means  of 
constructing  the  tangent-balance  with  the 
materials  he  had  left,  and  perhaps,  by  the 
time  he  was  thoroughly  grimy,  and  the 
workshop  smelt  like  the  biblical  bottomless 
pit,  something  would  occur  to  him  for  New- 
ton. 

He  would  also  write  a  letter  to  his  wife,  a 
sort  of  anticipatory  Christmas  letter,  and  send 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

her  the  book  he  had  bought  as  a  little  gift, 
wrapping  it  in  nice  white  paper  first,  tied  with 
a  bit  of  pale  green  ribband  which  she  had  left 
behind  her,  and  which  he  had  cherished  nearly 
a  year,  and  marking  it  'to  be  opened  on  Christ- 
mas morning';  and  the  parcel  should  then  be 
done  up  securely  in  good  brown  grocer's  paper 
and  addressed  to  her,  and  even  registered,  so  that 
it  could  not  possibly  be  lost.  It  was  a  pretty 
book,  and  also  a  very  excellent  book,  which 
he  knew  she  wanted  and  would  read  often ;  so 
it  was  as  well  to  take  precautions.  He  wished 
that  Newton  wanted  a  book,  or  even  two  or 
three,  or  magazines  with  gaily  coloured  pictures, 
or  anything  that  older  or  younger  boys  would 
have  liked  a  little.  But  Newton  was  at  that 
age  which  comes  sooner  or  later  to  every 
healthy  boy,  and  the  sight  of  a  book  which 
he  was  meant  to  read,  and  ought  to  read,  was 
infinitely  worse  than  the  ugliest  old  toad  that 

32 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

ever  flops  out  of  a  hollow  tree  at  dusk,  blink- 
ing his  devilish  little  eyes  at  you  when  you 
come  too  near  him. 

Overholt  had  been  brought  up  by  people 
who  lived  in  peace  and  good-will  towards 
men,  in  a  city  where  the  Spirit  of  Christmas 
still  dwells,  and  sleeps  most  of  the  time,  but 
wakens  every  year  like  a  giant  of  good  courage 
and  good  cheer,  at  the  sound  of  the  merry  bells 
across  the  snow  and  to  the  sweet  carol  under 
the  windows  in  the  frosty  night.  The  Germans 
say  that  bad  men  have  no  songs;  and  we  and 
all  good  fellows  may  say  that  those  people 
have  no  Christmas,  though  they  copy  the 
letter  that  know  not  the  spirit;  and  I  say 
that  a  copied  Christmas  is  not  Christmas 
at  all,  because  Christmas  is  the  feast  of  hearts, 
and  not  of  poor  bits  of  cut-down  trees  stuck 
up  in  sawdust  and  covered  with  lights  and 
tinsel,  even  if  they  are  hung  with  the  most 
33 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

expensive  gewgaws  and  jimcracks  that  ever 
are  bought  for  gifts  by  people  who  are  ex- 
pected to  give,  whether  they  like  it  or  not. 
But  when  the  heart  for  Christmas  is  there, 
and  is  beating,  then  a  very  little  tree  will  do, 
if  there  be  none  better  to  the  hand. 

Overholt  thought  so,  while  the  train  rumbled, 
creaked  and  clattered  and  jerked  itself  along, 
as  only  local  trains  can,  probably  because  they 
are  old  and  rheumatic  and  stiff  and  weak 
in  the  joints,  like  superannuated  crocodiles, 
though  they  may  have  once  been  young  ex- 
press trains,  sleek  and  shiny,  and  quick  and 
noiseless  as  bright  snakes. 

Overholt  thought  so,  too;  but  the  trouble 
was  that  he  saw  not  even  the  least  little  mite  of 
a  tree  in  sight  for  his  boy,  when  the  twenty- 
fifth  of  December  should  come.  And  it  was 
coming,  and  was  only  a  month  away;  and 
time  is  not  a  local  train  that  stops  at  every 

34 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

station  and  then  kicks  itself  on  a  bit,  to  stop 
at  the  next;  it  is  the  'Fast  Limited/  and  what 
is  more  it  is  the  only  one  we  can  go  by;  and 
we  cannot  get  out,  because  it  never  stops  any- 
where. 


35 


77.  H&VJ  a.  Man  and 
a  Boy  founded  the  Little  City  of  Hops 


II.  How  a  Man  and  a  Boy  founded  the  Little 
Qfy  of  Hope 

OVERHOLT'S  boy  came  home  from  school 
at  the  usual  hour  with  his  books  buckled  to- 
gether in  an  old  skate  strap,  which  had  never 
been  very  good  because  the  leather  was  too 
soft  and  tore  from  one  hole  to  the  next;  but 
it  served  very  well  for  the  books,  as  no  great 
strain  was  caused  by  an  arithmetic  thumbed 
to  mushiness,  a  history  in  the  same  state, 
and  a  geography  of  which  the  binding  gave 
in  and  doubled  up  from  sheer  weariness,  while 
the  edges  were  so  worn  that  the  eastern  coast 
of  China  and  Siberia  had  quite  disappeared. 
39 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

He  was  a  good-looking  lad,  not  tall  for  his 
age,  but  as  tough  as  a  street-cat  in  hard  train- 
ing. He  had  short  and  thick  brown  hair,  a 
clear  complexion,  his  father's  energetically  intel- 
lectual features,  though  only  half  developed  yet, 
a  boldly  set  mouth  and  his  mother's  kindly, 
practical  blue  eyes.  For  surely,  the  eyes  of  prac- 
tical people  are  always  quite  different  from 
those  of  all  others;  and  not  many  people  really 
are  practical,  though  I  never  knew  anybody 
who  did  not  think  he  or  she  was,  except  pinch- 
beck artists,  writers  and  players,  who  are  sure 
that  since  they  must  be  geniuses,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  be  bohemians  in  order  to  show  it.  The 
really  big  ones  are  always  trying  to  be  practi- 
cal, like  Sir  Isaac  Newton  when  he  ordered  a 
good-sized  hole  to  be  cut  in  his  barn  door  for 
the  cat,  and  a  little  one  next  it  for  the  kitten. 

But  Newton  Overholt  did  not  at  all  resemble 
his  great  namesake.  He  was  a  practical  young 

40 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

soul  and  had  not  yet  developed  the  American 
disease  which  consists  in  thinking  of  two  things 
at  the  same  time.  John  Henry  had  it  badly, 
for  he  had  been  thinking  of  the  tangent-balance, 
his  wife,  his  boy  and  the  coming  Christmas, 
all  together,  since  he  had  got  home,  and  the 
three  problems  had  got  mixed  and  had  made 
his  head  ache. 

Nevertheless  he  looked  up  from  his  work- 
table  and  smiled,  when  his  son  came  in. 

"Everything  all  right?"  he  asked,  with  an 
attempt  to  be  cheerful. 

"Oh  yes,  fine,'*  answered  the  boy,  looking 
at  the  motionless  model  for  the  five-hundredth 
time,  and  sticking  his  hands  into  his  pockets. 
"I'm  only  third  in  arithmetic  yet,  but  I'm 
head  in  everything  else.  I  wish  I  had  your 
brains,  father !  I'd  be  at  the  head  of  the  arith- 
metic class  in  half  a  shake  of  a  lamb's  tail, 
if  I  had  your  brains." 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

So  far  as  arithmetic  was  concerned  this 
sounded  probable  to  John  Henry,  who  would 
have  considered  the  speed  of  the  tail  to  be  a 
variable  function  of  lamb  depending  on  the 
value  of  mother  plus  or  minus  milk. 

"Well,"  he  said  in  an  encouraging  tone,  "I 
never  could  remember  geography,  so  it  makes 
us  even." 

"I'd  like  to  know  how!"  cried  the  boy  in 
a  tone  of  protest.  "You  could  do  sums  and 
you  grew  up  to  be  a  great  mathematician  and 
an  inventor.  But  what's  the  good  of  a  geog- 
raphician,  anyway?  They  can  only  make 
school  books.  They  never  invent  anything, 
do  they  ?  You  can't  invent  geography,  can 
you  ?  At  least,  you  can,  and  some  boys  do, 
but  they  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  class  like  lead. 
It's  safer  to  invent  history  than  geography, 
isn't  it,  father?" 

Overholt's  clever  mouth  twitched. 

4* 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

"It's  much  safer,  my  boy.  Almost  all 
historians  have  found  it  so." 

"There!  I  said  so  to-day  and  now  you 
say  just  the  same  thing.  I  don't  believe  one 
word  of  ancient  history  !  Not  —  one  —  word  ! 
They  wrote  it  about  their  own  nations,  didn't 
they?  All  right;  then  you  might  just  as  well 
expect  them  to  tell  what  really  happened  as 
think  that  I'd  tell  on  another  boy  in  my  own 
school.  I  must  say,  it  would  be  as  mean  as 
dog-pie  of  them  if  they  did,  but  all  the  same 
that  doesn't  make  history  true,  does  it?" 

Newton  had  a  practical  mind.  His  father, 
who  had  not,  meditated  with  unnecessary  gravity 
on  the  boy's  point  of  view,  and  said  nothing. 

"For  instance,"  continued  the  lad,  sitting 
down  on  the  high  stool  before  the  lathe  Overholt 
was  not  using,  "the  charge  of  Balaclava's  a 
true  story,  because  it's  been  told  by  both  sides; 
but  they  all  say  that  it  did  no  good,  anyway, 
43 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

except  to  make  poetry  of.  But  Marathon ! 
Nobody  had  a  chance  to  say  a  word  about  it 
but  the  Greeks  themselves,  and  they  weren't 
going  to  show  that  the  Persians  wiped  up  the 
floor  with  them,  were  they  ?  Why  should 
they  ?  And  if  Balaclava  had  happened  then, 
those  Greek  fellows  would  have  told  us  the 
Light  Brigade  carried  the  Russian  guns  back 
with  them  across  their  saddles,  wouldn't  they  ? 
I  say,  father!" 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Overholt,  looking  up, 
for  he  had  gone  back  to  his  work  and  was 
absorbed  in  it. 

"The  boys  are  all  beginning  to  talk  about 
Christmas  down  at  the  school.  Now  what  are 
we  going  to  do  at  Christmas  ?  I've  been  won- 
dering." 

"So  have  I!"  responded  the  man,  laying 
down  the  screw-plate  with  which  he  had  been 
cutting  a  fine  thread  on  the  end  of  a  small 

44 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

brass  rod,  for  the  tangent-balance.  "I've  been 
thinking  about  it  a  good  deal  to-day,  and  I 
haven't  decided  on  anything." 

"Let's  have  turkey  and  cranberry  sauce, 
anyway,"  said  Newton,  thoughtfully,  for  he 
had  a  practical  mind.  "And  I  suppose  we 
can  have  ice-cream  if  it  freezes  and  we  can  get 
some  ice.  Snow  does  pretty  well  if  you  pack 
it  down  tight  enough  with  salt,  and  go  on  put- 
ting in  more  when  it  melts.  Barbara  doesn't 
make  ice-cream  as  well  as  they  do  in  New  York. 
She  puts  in  a  lot  of  wintergreen  and  too  little 
cocoanut.  But  it's  not  so  bad.  We  can  have 
it,  can't  we,  father?" 

"Oh  yes.  Turkey,  cranberry  sauce  and  ice- 
cream. But  that  isn't  a  whole  Christmas  !" 

"I  don't  see  what  else  you  want,  I'm  sure," 

answered  the  boy,  thoughtfully.    "I  mean,  if 

it's  a  big  turkey  and  there's  enough  ice-cream. 

Cream-cakes,  maybe.    You    get   good   cream- 

45 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

cakes  at  Bangs's,  two  for  five  cents.  They're 
not  very  big,  but  they're  all  right  inside — 
all  gooey,  you  know.  Can  you  think  of  any- 
thing else?" 

"Not  to  eat!" 

"  Oh,  well,  then  what's  the  matter  with  our 
Christmas  ?  I  can't  see.  No  school,  and  heaps 
of  good  gobbler." 

"Good  what?"  Overholt  looked  at  the 
boy  with  an  inquiring  glance,  and  then  under- 
stood. "  I  see !  Is  that  the  proper  word  ? " 

"When  there's  lots,  it  is,"  answered  Newton 
with  conviction.  "Of  course,  there  are  all 
sorts  of  things  I'd  like  to  have,  but  it's  no  good 
wishing  you  could  lay  Columbus's  egg  and 
hatch  the  American  eagle,  is  it?1  What  would 
you  like,  father,  if  you  could  choose  ? " 

1  The  writer  acknowledges  his  indebtedness  for  this  fact 
in  natural  —  and  national  —  history,  to  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Julia 
Ward  Howe,  to  whom  it  was  recently  revealed  in  the  course 
of  making  an  excellent  speech. 

46 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

"  Three  things,"  answered  Overholt,  promptly. 
"  I  should  like  to  see  that  wheel  going  round, 
softly  and  steadily,  all  Christmas  Day.  I  should 
like  to  see  that  door  open,  and  your  mother 
coming  in  —  " 

"  You  bet  I  would,  too ! "  cried  Newton, 
dropping  from  bold  metaphor  to  vulgar  ver- 
nacular. "  Well,  what's  the  third  thing  ?  You 
said  there  were  three." 

"  I  should  like  you  to  have  a  real  old-fashioned 
glorious  Christmas,  my  boy,  such  as  you  had 
when  you  were  smaller,  before  we  left  the  house 
where  you  were  born." 

"Oh,  well,  you  needn't  worry  about  me, 
father;  if  there's  plenty  of  turkey  and  ice-cream, 
and  the  cream-cakes,  I  can  stand  it.  Mother 
can't  come,  anyhow,  and  that's  settled  and 
it's  no  use  to  think  about  it.  But  the  Motor  — 
that's  different.  There's  hope,  anyway.  The 
wheel  may  go  round.  If  you  didn't  hope  so, 
47 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

you  wouldn't  go  on  fussing  over  it,  would  you  ? 
You'd  go  and  do  something  else.  They  always 
say  hope's  better  than  nothing." 

"  It's  about  all  we  shall  have  left  for  Christ- 
mas, so  we  may  as  well  build  as  much  on  it  as 
we  can." 

"  I  love  building,"  said  Newton.  "  I  like 
to  stand  and  watch  a  bricklayer  just  putting 
one  brick  on  another  and  making  the  wall 
grow." 

"  Perhaps  you'll  turn  out  an  architect." 

"I'd  like  to.  I  never  showed  you  my  city, 
did  I  ?"  He  knew  very  well  that  he  had  not, 
and  his  father  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  "  No. 
Oh,  well,  you  wouldn't  care  to  see  it." 

"  Yes,  I  should !  But  I  don't  understand. 
What  sort  of  a  city  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Oh,  it's  nothing,"  answered  the  boy,  affect- 
ing carelessness.  "It's  only  a  little  paper 

city  on   a   board.     I  don't  believe  you'd   care 

48 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

to  see  it,  father.  Let's  talk  about  Christ- 
mas!" 

"  No.  I  want  to  see  what  you  have  made. 
Where  is  it  ?  I'll  go  with  you." 

Newton  laughed. 

"  I'll  bring  it,  if  you  really  want  me  to.  It's 
easy  enough  to  carry.  The  whole  thing's 
only  paper!" 

He  left  the  workshop  and  returned  before 
Overholt  had  finished  cutting  the  thread  of 
the  screw  he  was  making.  The  man  turned 
as  the  boy  pushed  the  door  open  with  his  foot 
and  came  in  carrying  what  had  evidently 
once  been  the  top  of  a  deal  table. 

On  the  board  he  had  built  an  ingenious 
model  of  a  town,  or  part  of  one,  for  it  was  not 
finished.  It  was  entirely  made  of  bits  of  card- 
board, chips  of  wood,  the  sides  of  matchboxes 
and  odds  and  ends  of  all  sorts  which  he  picked 
up  wherever  he  saw  them  and  brought  home 
49 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

in  his  pocket  for  his  purpose.  He  had  an 
immense  supply  of  such  stuff  stowed  away, 
much  more  than  he  could  ever  use. 

Overholt  looked  at  it  with  admiration,  but 
said  nothing.  It  was  the  college  town  where 
he  had  lived  so  happily  and  hoped  to  live  again. 
It  was  distinctly  recognizable,  and  many  of 
the  buildings  were  not  only  clearly  made,  but 
were  coloured  very  like  the  originals.  He  was  so 
much  interested  that  he  forgot  to  say  anything. 

"It's  a  silly  thing,  anyway,"  said  Newton, 
disappointed  by  his  silence.  "It's  like  toys!" 

Overholt  looked  up,  and  the  boy  saw  his 
pleased  face. 

"It's  very  far  from  silly,"  he  said.  "I  be- 
lieve you're  born  to  be  a  builder,  boy !  It's  not 
only  not  silly,  but  it's  very  well  done  indeed !" 

"I'll  bet  you  can't  tell  what  the  place  is," 
observed  Newton,  a  secret  joy  stealing  through 
him  at  his  father's  words. 

5° 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

"  Know  it !  I  should  think  I  did,  and  I  wish 
we  were  there !  Here's  the  College,  and  there's 
our  house  in  the  street  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Common.  The  church  is  first  rate;  it's  really 
like  it  —  and  there's  the  Roman  Catholic 
chapel,  and  the  Public  Library  in  Main 
Street." 

"Why,  you  really  do  recognize  the  places!" 
cried  Newton  in  delight.  "  I  didn't  think 
anybody'd  know  them  ! " 

"  One  would  have  to  be  blind  not  to,  if  one 
knew  the  town,"  said  Overholt.  "And  there's 
the  dear  old  lane!"  He  was  absorbed  in  the 
model.  "And  the  three  hickory  trees,  and 
even  the  little  bench!" 

"Why,  do  you  remember  that  bench,  father  ?" 

Overholt  looked  up  again,  quickly  and  rather 
dreamily. 

"Yes.     It  was  there  that  I  asked  your  mother 
to  marry  me,"  he  said. 
53 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

"Not  really?    Then  I'm  glad  I  put  it  in!" 

"So  am  I,  for  the  dear  old  time's  sake,  and 
for  her  sake,  and  for  yours,  my  boy.  Tell  me 
when  you  made  this,  and  how  you  can  remem- 
ber it  all  so  well." 

The  lad  sat  down  on  the  high  stool  again, 
before  the  lathe,  and  looked  through  the  dingy 
window  at  the  scraggy  trees  outside,  beyond 
the  forlorn  yard. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "I  kind  of 
remembered  it,  I  suppose,  because  I  liked  it 
better  than  this.  And  when  I  first  had  the 
idea,  I  was  sitting  out  there  in  the  yard,  looking 
at  this  board.  It  belonged  to  a  broken  table 
that  had  been  thrown  out  there.  And  I  carried 
it  up  to  my  room  when  you  were  out  —  I  thought 
you  wouldn't  mind  my  taking  it.  And  I  picked 
up  scraps  that  might  be  useful,  and  got  some 
gum,  and  old  Barbara  made  me  some  flour 
paste.  It's  got  all  green  now,  and  it  smells 

54 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

like  thunder,  but  it's  good  still.  That's  about 
all,  I  suppose.  Now  I'll  take  it  away  again. 
I  keep  it  in  the  dark  closet  behind  my  room, 
because  that  doesn't  leak  when  it  rains." 

"Don't  take  it  away,"  said  Overholt,  sud- 
denly. "  I'll  make  room  for  it  here,  and  you 
can  work  at  it  while  I'm  busy,  and  in  the  even- 
ings I'll  try  and  help  you,  and  we'll  finish  it 
together." 

Newton  was  amazed. 

"Why,  father,  it's  playing!  How  can  you 
go  to  work  to  play  ?  It  would  be  so  funny ! 
But  of  course,  if  you  really  would  help  a  little  — 
you've  got  such  lots  of  nice  things !" 

He  wistfully  eyed  a  little  coil  of  very  fine 
steel  wire,  which  would  make  a  beautiful  tele- 
graph. Newton  even  dreamt  of  making  the 
trolley,  too,  in  the  Main  Street,  but  that  would 
be  a  very  troublesome  job,  and  as  for  the  rail- 
way station,  it  was  easy  enough  to  build  a  shed 
55 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

and  a  platform,  but  what  is  a  railway  station 
without  a  train  ? 

Overholt  did  not  answer  the  boy  at  once, 
and  when  he  spoke,  there  was  a  queer  little 
quaver  in  his  voice. 

"We'll  call  it  our  Little  City  of  Hope,"  he 
said,  "and  perhaps  we  can  'go  to  work  to 
play/  as  you  call  it,  so  hard  that  Hope  will 
really  come  and  live  in  the  city.** 

"Well,**  said  Newton,  "I  never  thought 
you*d  even  care  to  see  it!  Shall  I  go  up  and 
get  my  stuff,  and  the  gum  and  the  flour  paste, 
and  bring  them  down  here,  father?  But  the 
flour  paste  smells  pretty  bad  —  it  might  give 
you  a  headache.'* 

"  Bring  it  down,  my  boy.  My  headaches 
don't  come  from  such  things." 

"  Don't  they  ?  It's  true  that  stuff  you  use 
here's  about  as  bad  as  anything,  till  you  get 
used  to  it.  What  is  it,  anyway?" 

56 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

Overholt  gave  him  the  almost  unpronounce- 
able name  of  a  recently  discovered  substance, 
and  smiled  at  his  expression  as  he  listened. 

"  If  that's  its  name,"  said  the  boy,  gravely, 
"it  sounds  like  the  way  it  smells.  I  wonder 
what  a  skunk's  name  is  in  science.  But  the 
flour  paste's  pretty  bad,  too.  You'll  see!" 

He  went  off,  and  his  father  finished  cutting 
the  little  screw  while  he  was  gone,  and  then 
turned  to  look  at  the  model  again,  and  became 
absorbed  in  tracing  the  well-known  streets  and 
trying  to  recall  the  shops  and  houses  in  each, 
and  the  places  where  his  friends  had  lived, 
and  no  doubt  lived  still,  for  college  towns  do 
not  change  as  fast  as  others.  He  was  amazed 
at  the  memory  the  boy  had  shown  for  details; 
if  the  lad  had  not  yet  developed  any  special 
talent,  he  had  at  least  proved  that  he  possessed 
one  of  those  natural  gifts  which  are  sometimes 
alone  enough  to  make  success.  The  born 
57 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

builder's  eye  is  like  an  ear  for  music,  a  facility 
for  languages  or  the  power  of  drawing  from 
nature;  all  the  application  in  the  world  will 
not  do  in  years  what  any  one  of  those  does 
instantly,  spontaneously,  instinctively,  without 
the  smallest  effort.  You  cannot  make  talent 
out  of  a  combination  of  taste  and  industry. 
You  cannot  train  a  cart-horse  to  trot  a  mile 
in  a  little  over  a  minute. 

Newton  returned,  bringing  his  materials, 
to  describe  which  would  be  profitless,  if  it  were 
possible.  He  had  everything  littered  together 
in  two  battered  deal  candle-boxes,  including 
the  broken  soup-plate  containing  the  flour 
paste,  a  loathly,  mouldering  little  mess  that 
diffused  a  nauseous  odour  distinctly  perceptible 
through  that  of  the  unpronounceable  chemical 
on  which  the  Air-Motor  was  to  depend  for  its 
existence. 

The  light  outside  was  failing  in  the  murky 

58 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

November  air,  and  Overholt  lit  the  big  reflect- 
ing lamp  that  hung  over  the  work-table.  There 
was  another  above  the  lathe,  for  no  gas  or 
electricity  was  to  be  had  so  far  from  the  town, 
and  one  of  old  Barbara's  standing  causes  of 
complaint  against  Overholt  was  his  reckless 
use  of  kerosene.  She  thought  he  would  be 
better  if  he  had  more  fat  turkeys  and  rump 
steaks,  and  less  light. 

So  the  man  and  the  boy  'went  to  work  to 
play '  at  building  the  City  of  Hope,  for  at 
least  an  hour  before  supper,  and  half  an  hour 
after  it,  almost  every  day;  and  with  the  boy's 
marvellous  memory  and  the  father's  skill,  and 
the  delirious  profusion  of  fresh  material  which 
Newton  kept  finding  in  every  corner  of  the 
workshop,  it  grew  steadily,  till  it  was  a  little 
work  of  art  in  its  way.  There  were  the  ups 
and  downs,  the  crooked  old  roads  and  lanes 
and  the  straight  new  streets,  the  little  wooden 
59 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

cottages  and  the  big  brick  houses,  and  there 
was  the  grassy  common  with  its  trees  and  its 
tiny  iron  railing;  and  John  Henry  easily  made 
posts  to  carry  the  trolley  wires,  which  had 
seemed  an  impossible  dream  to  the  boy,  beyond 
all  realization;  and  one  day,  when  the  inventor 
seemed  further  from  the  tangent-balance  than 
ever,  he  spent  a  whole  afternoon  in  making 
half  a  dozen  little  trolley  cars  that  ran  on  real 
wheels,  made  by  sawing  off  sections  from 
a  lead  pencil,  which  is  the  best  thing  in  the 
world  for  that,  because  the  lead  comes  out  and 
leaves  nice  round  holes  for  the  axles.  When 
the  first  car  was  painted  red  and  yellow  and 
ran  up  and  down  Main  Street,  guided  by  the 
wire  above  and  only  needing  one  little  artificial 
push  to  send  it  either  way,  it  looked  so  real 
that  the  boy  was  in  ecstacies  of  delight. 

"  It's  worth  while  to  be  a  great  inventor,  to 

be  able  to  make  things  like  that ! "  he  cried, 

So 


and  Overholt  was  as  much  pleased  by  the  praise 
as  an  opera  singer  is  who  is  called  out  three 
times  before  the  curtain  after  the  first  act. 

So  the  Little  City  of  Hope  grew,  and  they 
both  felt  that  Hope  herself  was  soon  coming 
to  dwell  therein,  if  she  had  not  come  already. 


J37.  How  they 
made  Bricks  eo)Hhoai  Strum 


HI.  Ho<w  they  made  Brick* 
•orit boat  Straw 


Bur  then  something  happened ;  for  Overholt 
was  tormented  by  the  vague  consciousness  of  a 
coming  idea  so  that  he  had  headaches,  and 
could  not  sleep  at  night.  It  flashed  upon  him  at 
last  one  evening,  when  Newton  was  in  bed,  and 
he  was  sitting  before  his  motor,  wishing  he  had 
the  thousand  dollars  which  would  surely  com- 
plete it,  even  if  he  used  the  most  expensive 
materials  in  the  market. 

The  idea  which  developed  suddenly  in  all  its 

clearness  was  that  he  had  made  one  of  the  most 
67 


THE  LITTLE 
CITY  OF 
HOPE 

important  parts  of  the  machine  exactly  the  con- 
verse of  what  it  should  be;  what  was  on  the 
right  should  have  been  on  the  left,  and  what 
was  down  should  certainly  have  been  up. 
Then  the  engine  would  work,  even  if  the  tan- 
gent-balance were  a  very  poor  affair  indeed. 

The  particular  piece  of  brass  casting  which 
was  the  foundation  of  that  part  had  been  made 
in  New  York,  and  owing  to  the  necessity  for  its 
being  finished  very  accurately  and  machine- 
planed  and  turned,  it  had  cost  a  great  deal  of 
money.  Already  it  had  been  made  and  spoilt 
three  times  over,  and  now  it  was  perfectly  clear 
that  it  must  be  cast  over  again  in  a  reversed  form. 
It  was  quite  useless  to  make  the  balance  yet, 
for  it  would  be  of  no  use  till  the  right  casting 
was  finished ;  it  would  have  to  be  reversed,  too, 
and  the  tangent  would  apply  to  a  reversed  curve. 

He  had  no  money  for  the  casting,  but  even 

before  trying  to  raise  the  cash,  it  was  necessary 

68 


THE   LITTLE 
CITY   OF 
HOPE 

to  make  the  wooden  model.  He  could  do  that, 
and  he  set  to  work  to  sketch  the  drawing  within 
five  minutes  after  the  idea  had  flashed  upon  him. 
As  his  eye  followed  the  lines  made  by  his  pencil, 
he  became  more  and  more  convinced  that  he 
was  right.  When  the  rough  sketch  was  done, 
he  looked  up  at  the  engine.  Its  familiar  features 
seemed  to  be  drawn  into  a  diabolical  grimace 
of  contempt  at  his  stupidity,  and  it  looked  as  if 
it  were  conscious,  and  wanted  to  throw  the 
wrongly  made  piece  at  his  head.  But  he  was 
overwrought  just  then,  and  could  have  fancied 
any  folly. 

He  rose,  shook  himself  and  then  took  a  long 
pull  at  a  black  bottle  that  always  stood  on  a 
shelf.  When  a  man  puts  a  black  bottle  to  his 
lips,  tips  it  up  and  takes  down  several  good  pulls 
almost  without  drawing  breath,  most  people 
suppose  that  he  is  a  person  of  vicious  habits. 

In  Overholt's  case,   most  people  would  have 
69 


